


While My Love Lies Weeping

by oddmonster



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddmonster/pseuds/oddmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty comforts Chekov when news reaches them of a death in Chekov's family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While My Love Lies Weeping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [der_tanzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/gifts).



Scotty held the boy as best he was able and waited patiently for McCoy to arrive.

Okay, patient was perhaps not quite the word but he waited, certainly, and wondered what the hell was taking so long. The starship's seventeen-year-old genius navigator comes unhinged and you don't *walk* the hypo up from Sick Bay.

_Just keep singing,_ he told himself. _You can get him through this._

Scotty ran a hand through Chekov's damp curls and sang a little softer, uncertain where to touch next. The keening was unnerving but understandable when a man finds out he's lost his da.

Chekov choked and coughed, spasms wracking his slight frame, and Scotty bent over him, holding on, still stroking the soft curls, running a hand over Chekov's back, helpless. _That's right, lad, get it out. Get it all out._

Chekov babbled as he sobbed, words heartbreakingly unintelligible to Scotty's ears. It was wrong to be thinking of himself at a time like this but...he told his father about us. The knowledge ached in Scotty, made him raw and needing and scared the living daylights out of him all at once.

Scotty's hand shook the next time he stroked Chekov's back. The lad was giving voice to a keening, wordless wail that scared him more than the screaming. Chekov talks all the time: Russian, English, it doesn't matter. It's like his brain never turns off and neither does the tap that vents it. Scotty's even heard Chekov mumble in his sleep a couple times, while he's lying awake wondering if he's dreaming. Then Chekov shifts against him, skin on skin, and those sweet lips form a series of low purrs, his sleep-voice so different from the high, excited babble whenever he's awake.

And twice Scotty heard his own name. After, he didn't get back to sleep either time, but just laid awake with bated breath, listening, in case it happened again.

Chekov's wail broke off and he spasmed alarmingly, then retched on the floor between Scotty's feet.

Scotty kept singing. He rubbed Chekov's back a little harder. _I love you, lad. And I'm sorry._

Chekov coughed and brought up bile. "I am sorry, Scotty, so so--" Breath left him and he gasped, eyes wide and red-rimmed. There was a moment of silence, then Chekov collapsed, brimming over with tears and so much hurt it'll take Scotty a lifetime to process. Maybe more.

He kept singing. And kept rubbing. He put everything he hadn't said to Chekov yet into every word. All his love, all his fears, everything he hoped he'd be man enough to say one day.

The wailing continued, and so did the singing. Scotty hung on.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss and McCoy stepped inside, out of breath and with a hypo in one hand.


End file.
